Robert’s eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest.
Just how bawdy were these tales? Surely his men would do naught to incur his wrath.
“All right, all right,” she laughingly agreed. “Let me see if I can remember another one.”
A couple of quiet minutes passed, accompanied by assorted rustling sounds and occasional whispered comments.
“Okay, I’ve got one,” she announced.
A loud cheer split the air.
“Tell us! Tell us!” the men chanted.
Beth laughed. “Okay. But before I do, you need to know that Stormy Weather is the name of a song.”
“Will you sing it for us, my lady?” one man called.
“Maybe in a fortnight when you clean this place up again,” she said not unkindly, eliciting many a groan. “Oh, and brass is a metal. I haven’t seen any here, so I wasn’t sure you knew that. Come here, Marcus. I need you to translate a word for me. What do you call…?”
A split second later, Robert heard his squire sputter and cough. “My lady!”
“Look how red the boy’s face is!” someone belted out with glee.
“Aye! ’Twill be a good one, I vow!”
“My lady,” Marcus whispered desperately, “I cannot.”
“Sure you can. If I don’t use the right term, they won’t get it.”
“Lord Robert would geld me if he knew I discussed such with you!”
Exactly what word did she seek?
Though curiosity begged him to wait and see, Robert opted to save his squire further embarrassment.
Assuming a foreboding expression, he stepped into the doorway.
Seated upon a tall stool just inside the doorway of the north tower, Beth felt a shadow fall across her. Turning, she smiled as her heart leapt. “Robert!”
Hopping off the stool, she took two steps toward him, then noticed his expression.
Uh-oh. He looked rather displeased. Had he heard one of the dirty limericks?
Behind her, the knights quieted and anxiously stood at attention.
Robert raised one eyebrow, daring one and all to offer an explanation.
“Um…” Without looking at Robert’s men, Beth flung one arm out and pointed at them. “They made me do it.”
Gasps ricocheted through the room.
Beth peeked over her shoulder to gauge the reactions of the accused. The looks of shock and abject horror that painted the men’s rough faces were absolutely priceless.
She burst into laughter. “I’m just kidding, you guys.”
“Jesting, my lady,” Marcus corrected softly, his gaze darting back and forth between her and Robert.
“Jesting,” Beth amended, waving her hand at the men, who seemed uncertain how to react. “I’m just jesting. You guys should see your faces. It’s hilarious.”
Still chuckling, she strolled forward, slid her arms around Robert’s waist and leaned into him. There was nothing sexual in the gesture. Just another expression of affection that probably astounded all present. “It was me,” she admitted freely, rocking slightly from side to side. The glint of amusement she saw enter Robert’s eyes confirmed her guess that he wasn’t truly angry. “I was desperate to get them to clean this place up and thought it might distract them. Although they did,” she said, raising her voice, “assure me that all was good and proper.”
Robert closed his arms around her and locked his hands at the base of her spine. “I suspect you knew otherwise.”
She winked. “Guilty as charged. I missed you today.” Rising onto her toes, she kissed his chin. “Did you miss me?”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Aye.”
“Good.” She lowered her voice so that only he would hear her. “I’m sorry, Robert. I know it wasn’t proper. But this place was a real health hazard. When I walked past it earlier, I almost gagged at the stench. Something had to be done. And the men were whining so much about having to clean up their own mess and doing what they considered women’s work that I had to hurry and distract them before I gave in to the desire to strangle them all.”
“Why did you not simply assign some of the women from the castle to…” He trailed off when she narrowed her eyes.
She had fielded that question far too often today. “Because there is absolutely no reason these men can’t pick up after themselves. They’re not children, for crying out loud. Besides, I was afraid any women I sent in here would end up with their skirts tossed over their heads.”
“You are a woman, are you not?” he asked, his expression unreadable.
“Aye, but we both know none of them would dare touch me. And as you can see, my skirts are still down around my ankles.” Her voice sank to a whisper. “Plus, if anyone ever did try aught, I would totally kick his arse.”
“I know that. Others do not.”
She frowned. “What do you mean? Someone might actually think the men have been in here gangbanging me all afternoon?” She kept forgetting that appearances meant everything here. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, because here everyone already thinks I’m a—” She broke off, remembering that he didn’t know about the whole whore thing.